“Don't let it trouble you,” Heyst said. “Your voice is enough. I am in love with it, whatever it says.”
She remained silent for a while, as if rendered breathless by this quiet statement.
“Oh! I wanted to ask you—”
He remembered that she probably did not know his name, and expected the question to be put to him now; but after a moment of hesitation she went on:
“Why was it that you told me to smile this evening in the concert-room there—you remember?”
“I thought we were being observed. A smile is the best of masks. Schomberg was at a table next but one to us, drinking with some Dutch clerks from the town. No doubt he was watching us—watching you, at least. That's why I asked you to smile.”
“Ah, that's why. It never came into my head!”
“And you did it very well, too—very readily, as if you had understood my intention.”
“Readily!” she repeated. “Oh, I was ready enough to smile then. That's the truth. It was the first time for years I may say that I felt disposed to smile. I've not had many chances to smile in my life, I can tell you; especially of late.”
“But you do it most charmingly—in a perfectly fascinating way.”